No Amount of Shouting
by Clare Hope
Summary: Dean Winchester didn't often get upset enough to ask for help. But when he did, he had good reason for doing so, and the angel Castiel would always come-of course. (K plus for a tiny bit of language and even less violence. Not slash, just friendship.)


_And I didn't think I could ever hate demons more than I already did,_ Dean thought to himself angrily. He kicked the wall of the garishly decorated motel room as hard as he could, wincing as he heard a crack and a sudden pain lanced through his foot. "DAMN IT, DAMN IT!" he swore.

Hopping over to the nearest bed, he sat down on the edge of the lumpy mattress, hard. He gritted his teeth angrily, clenching his fists as he stared upwards, struggling between the urge to keep his anger and emotions under control and to just start screaming and crying at how unfair the day had been. He was alone; he could have chosen either. But no amount of shouting would fix how terrible he felt, and it wouldn't change what had happened. What he had _let _happen…

_They were trapped. The demon had them cornered in a small shop on the outskirts of the town. Even worse, there were several bystanders in the shop, too. They had no idea what was going on, as usual. The demon, which was extremely powerful, had shattered all of the lightbulbs in the shop. Since there was also an overcast, drizzling sky that afternoon, it had resulted in a dark, frightening atmosphere._

_The demon's meatsuit had, at first, been a middle-aged man in relatively good shape with thinning brown hair. But as Sam and Dean shielded the four other people in the store and Dean began to shout an exorcism, the demon moved._

_With a sickening rush of black smoke, the middle-aged man collapsed in a heap, and the demon swirled its way past Sam and Dean, who coughed and choked on the rotten sulfur smell. The black smoke found its way into the mouth of a young pregnant woman behind the two hunters. Dean and Sam whirled around as the young woman screamed, then stopped her noise abruptly. Her eyes went pure black as she flung her hand towards the brothers and effortlessly snapped them back towards the nearest wall and pinned them there._

_The young woman's husband was screaming now. "Sky! Sky!" he cried, reaching for her and backing away at the same time. Her head twisted to glare at him with an ebony stare. The hand she wasn't using to pin Sam and Dean shot towards him, curling into a fist. He began to choke, clutching at his own throat, his eyes horrified, panicked, and betrayed._

_Dean could barely move. If he could get his hand into his pocket, there was a chance that he could find the recording of an exorcism he and Sam had made as a fail-safe, and they could still get out of this situation. His hand inched towards his phone. The demon noticed and increased her pressure on Dean's chest. He found himself barely able to breathe; darkness swam before his eyes and the shouts of the other couple of people in the shop faded from his ears._

_Then a clear voice cut through his blurry mind. It was Sam; he had managed to find the recorded exorcism on his own phone. A harsh scream ripped out of the demon via the pregnant woman's throat. The pressure on Dean's chest released, and he fell heavily forward onto the ground, gasping in huge quantities of air. As his vision cleared, he looked up to see the demon throwing herself around, knocking into shelves and walls as she tried to somehow escape the banishing voice._

_The possessed woman's husband was screaming again. "Please, please, stop!" he was shouting. "No, PLEASE! You're hurting them!"_

"…_AUDI NOS!" Sam's recorded voice finished loudly. Once again, a gush of black smoke forced its way out of the young woman's mouth, nose, and eyes, filling the whole room before being sucked down through the floor. Once the smoke cleared, the young woman was lying on the ground, utterly still. Both Sam and Dean scrambled towards her. They knew that the man who the demon had possessed before was beyond help. But Sky might not have been. _

_Before they could reach her, though, her husband had. He gathered her carefully in his arms. "Sky!" he cried. "Wake up! Wake up!" He looked up at Sam and Dean. "She isn't breathing, oh, God, she's not breathing, please, God..." _

_... ... ... ... ... _

The man's anguished sobs rang in Dean's head. He buried his head in his hands. The woman, Sky, had died, her neck snapped when she slammed into the wall. But as terrible as that was, there was worse.

Someone (Dean still wasn't sure who) had had the good sense to call for an ambulance. Not too long afterwards, they had heard that Sky's unborn child hadn't made it, either. If the demon hadn't been so rough, the baby would have been old enough (almost eight months old, apparently) to survive. But she had already died before the doctors could save her. The father hadn't even known if his child was to be a boy or a girl before he was told "the baby girl didn't make it, either" by one of the nurses at the hospital.

When Sam had seen how upset Dean had gotten and how hard he was trying to hide it, the younger Winchester brother had offered to take over explanations and let Dean go back to the motel. Torn between relief and a desire to stay with Sam, Dean had agreed to go and stay in the room for a while.

"What the hell is wrong with our lives?" Dean muttered into his hands, not for the first time. Maybe he should have stayed with Sam. He sure as hell didn't want to be alone right now. Plus, he was pretty sure that he had broken at least one bone in his foot when he had kicked the wall, judging by how much it hurt. Maybe..._Hey, Castiel? Could you maybe come down for a minute? Please, I kinda need some help. _

Dean closed his eyes for a second. After a brief pause, he heard a sound reminiscent of the flutter of bird wings.

"Dean? What's wrong? Your prayer sounded so upset," a concerned, low voice asked.

Dean raised his head gratefully. "Cas, I..." He explained what had happened briefly.

Castiel listened quietly, tilting his head, bird-like, at some parts of the story. When it seemed Dean had finished his tale, the angel took a step towards him. "Dean, I am sorry that you feel so guilty about the death of this young woman and her child. It wasn't your fault, you know."

"Yeah, I know. But..." Dean shook his head. "It still feels like it's my fault."

"It's not."

"You said that. It doesn't change anything."

Cas tilted his head again. His blue eyes were sorrowful and deep. "What did you call me for, then?"

Dean sighed. "I dunno, Cas. I guess I'd hoped you would say something wise and angelic?" An awkward pause. "That was sarcasm."

"Oh. Okay," Castiel replied blankly. "If you wanted, I could check to make sure they were in heaven."

"Really wouldn't help either. Certainly wouldn't make the dad feel any better," Dean told him bluntly.

"From experience, I am inclined to agree with you. Even if a person believes their loved ones to be in heaven, it usually does not mean that they do not feel grief. Though I do not understand why." The angel frowned. "Perhaps you could explain, since you are human."

The answer seemed plain enough to Dean. "Because when we grieve, Cas, it's not because we're sorry for the dead person. We're sorry for ourselves...for being left behind."

Castiel gave a tiny half smile. "That was very eloquent, for you."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Thanks?"

"Yes, that was a compliment. I think," Castiel clarified.

Dean exhaled loudly. "Actually, Castiel, I kind of wanted to ask you a question. It's..."

"Ask. I'll try and answer."

"I know that heaven is supposed to be, like, the dead person's best memory. Right?"

"That is correct."

"But the little girl who died before even being born, how can she have a best memory? What's her heaven like, Cas?""

Castiel hesitated. "We do allow for some differences when the deceased is that young. If a parent or close relative is in heaven, too, the child is placed in their heaven. The child is then allowed to experience, at least partially, a normal life. By which I mean that the child does not stay a child. He or she gets to grow up, and the deceased parent gets to be there."

Dean's eyes widened. "Really?" he said incredulously.

"Yes. Although I have never had much influence on that part of heaven-I do not have any first hand experience and my knowledge comes only from stories." Castiel looked at him apprehensively. "Did that answer satisfy your curiosity?"

"That answer was more than I'd hoped for," Dean told him honestly. "It was...well, it made my day a hell of a lot better. It still sucks, but not as much. It's still freaking unfair and I'm still angry as hell, but…" Dean started to stand up. As soon as he put weight on his foot, however, he let out an undignified, very unmanly yelp and the world blurred for a second before he realized that Castiel had grabbed his shoulders to keep him from falling and shoved him back onto the edge of the bed.

"Dean? Dean, what's wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?" Cas was saying, his voice tight with concern.

Dean winced. "I...may or may not have kicked the wall hard enough to break something when I got back to the room," he muttered.

"Why?!"

"I was pissed off! There's another thing you've got to learn about humans, Castiel; when we're angry, we either take out our anger on inanimate objects, other humans, or we drink," Dean remarked.

Castiel had a strange expression on his face. It was a mix of confusion, amusement, irritation, and affection. "You humans." He touched Dean's forehead with two fingers lightly. There was a faint white glow, and the pain in Dean's foot disappeared, along with the ache of the bruises on his ribs from being thrown against the wall.

"Thanks," Dean said gratefully.

"You're welcome. Are you all right now?"

"Not really. But it's better." Dean sighed softly.

"Would you like me to stay until Sam returns?" Cas inquired.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Don't you have a civil war to fight?"

"Friends are more important than fighting," Castiel told him matter-of-factly. "I am more than happy to stay for a while. Heaven can wait."

The hunter had to smile at the angel's sincerity. "Yeah, sure. Want a drink or something?"

Castiel looked slightly frightened suddenly. "No, thank you, Dean, I've not had the best experiences with alcohol, as you know."

Dean snorted. "Yes, I remember. Sorry I asked."

Cas sat down in the gray folding chair adorning the corner. Both man and angel were silent, for they both knew that no amount of shouting would improve the world.

* * *

_I know this was seemingly random, sorry! It has nothing to do with any other story of mine and I'm not even sure exactly where it should be placed in the show. Oh well, that's not the important part of this story. The bit I was trying to get across was that I have a huge amount of headcanons about the religious aspects of the show, and I'll continue writing fics about them. I already have, actually, my story "Maybe It's Better Broken" deals with this sort of thing too (kinda.). Please, I really hope nobody takes offense at the liberties I'm taking with some religious ideas; I do not _in any way _mean to be disrespectful to anyone's beliefs. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love a review if you're not too busy! I love you all, DFTBA!_


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